The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1887-07-30
"What do YOU meanl,,

THAT yCi permit no person to see either
the manuscript or the translation, and that
under no circumstances will you trust the
original out of your possession, or hereafter
reveal its contents"
l accepted with indecorous haste, it is
needless to say, and DR.. Max left me a prey
to emotions that l am utterly unable to de-
scribe. Long after midnight fell asleep,
but still behind my burning eyeballs my
brain was busy. A phantom troop swept
constantly in review. The letters of the
Greek alphabet took life and fought innu-
merable battles. For hours labored in a
vast library, piling up manuscripts upon
miles of unending shelves.
Then, in my troubled Sleep a stupor
seemed to come over me. was in deep
wood, where vergeless glades stretched
away on either side into purple obscu-ity.
1t was dead forest, where every vestige
of life was mute. The leaves, the grass,
the flowers on the damp turf We're as
motionless as though Omnipotence had
whispered through the labyrinth "bc still"
AS went on stumbled, once, twice, in the
diml light. Behind me, faint glow from red
sunset threw my shadow grimly along the
path until it was lost in the depths.
stepped aside and then | saw that-ah-ah
1 shuddered in my sleep-I had fallen
over gaunt arms that rose from the sod and
twined their skeleton fingers across my
way. Here and there gray skulls dotted
/ the path and turned their sightless sockets
to the fading day. Filled with an awful
fear tried TO hurry on, but my feet refused
to move. l tried to shrek, but my lips
gave forth no sound. l could not lift my
eyes from the road before me. Then bony
finger moved; shriveled hand unclasped
and beckoned to me; then another and
another, until the whole forest awakened:
baleful lights cleaned from the hollow
skulls, and rusthng leaves woke a weird
melody multitude Of grisly arms waved
me greeting-and | awoke to hear the
noises Of the street beneath my window
ano seethe morning sunlight making quaint
mosaics on the floor.
A package from Dr. Max was handed to
me an hour later. A book, less than an
inch In thickness, fell from the newspaper
wrapping. Between heavy ox-hide covers,
each crossed with three parallel brass
bands, l found fifty sheets of heavy parch-
ment. The sheets were hard and brittle
and coarse, indicating great age. There
was no exterior symbol, but l knew that
the manuscript was copy Of an older
work. 1t was in early Greek, and the
dN'AAA'" SAAAi oSNSAo - many VI ODSOlCAS,
forced the conclusion that my task would
not be an easy one. There was neither pre-
face nor introduction. The first page be-
gan abruptly in hexameter-a measure that
was sublime. 1t ended on the last page as
abruptly as it had commenced
l did not waste precious time commenc-
ing my work, which promised great fas-
cination for me. The reverence, the curl
osity which this relic of lost age awak-
ened within me was but the natural out
growth Of my bibliophilism, fostered
through years of study aud research in the
old languages. l touched the faded leaves
with caressing hand, and for a brief inter-
val stepped from under the black shadow
that hung over me; forgot the promised
reward and the Doctor of Dutch Bottom
was to me for the moment as though he had
never been.
1t was noon before / knew it, but interest
in the brass-bound book held me to my
work, and unmindful of repeated rings of
the dinner bell | kept on. Hour after hour
l wrote, until the floor about my table was
white with the shower of leaves.
The original manuscript had been the
work of a Delphian priestess and was sa-
cred to her offices. 1t was treatise on
the Oracle, the functions of the priestly or
der, the secrets of the Temple and the in
cantation spells 1t was in three parts.
The first fifteen pages held the rhythmic
measure of poem Of indescribable beauty.
1t was an appeal to the highest intellectual
powers of man; leading string thrown
out to draw him to consideration of the
unseen and the unknown. This, in the sue
ceeding fifteen pages, embraced in prose,
atreatise on elemental mysteries, the ne
cessity Of inward purity to o perfect knowl-
edge of the sublime and the controlling
forces in nature. The remainder of the
strange tome, until it broke abruptly on the
last page, detailed the external and purely
ceremonial rites requisite to invoke the APP
pearance and control OF elementals, their
complete subjugation, for evil or for good,
to the rule of the master mind.
Wrapped up fascinated under the spell
of the book, tea hour passed UNDECIDED, and
the day died with the red signals of a storm
flying in the eastern sky. My eyes were
swollen with the hours of application to
my task. The lids hung over the bloodshot
orbs like canopies of lead. But kept on,
pausing only at intervals to shut out the
light until the white film that gathered over
the pupils had passed away.
The remembrance of the eighteen hours
spent at the study table maddens me, even
at this late day. The surge of conflicting
emotions, the uncertainty of hope, the de-
spair born of dread of a life of darkness,
were lulled into sudden sleep that bore
with it nightmare more raclfing than the
passion that preceded it. / was chained to
the chair by some strange power that
emanated from the book. The lamp-light,
falling upon the pages of my work. took on
the effulgence of noon, that scorched the
organs of sight until the blue lines on the
pages wavered under my weary pen, then
faded entirely and my staring eyes looked
helplessly into space.
Nothing but my indomitable will sus-
tanned me to the end. l was conscious that
the secrets of a priestly race were mine. l
reached down the ages, past the crumbling
stories of Attica and the ruined monuments
of Macedonia, into the very shadow of Par
nassus, and tore the vail asunder that
shielded the secrets of the Pythoness from
the multitudes that made her haunt their
Mecca centuries before Judea had known
the Nazarine. What was modern Theos-
ophy and the teachings of a Blavatsky to
the secrets that were within my grasp!
All sounds of life had been hushed for
hours when / reached the last line. Trem-
bling under the pressure Of emotions held
in check, / wrote the final word and threw